


Lowland Delight

by D20Owlbear



Series: Zine Fics [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), PWP, Pict, Pict/Roman, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roman Nobility, Star-crossed, well established fwb at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27568450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: Crowley, who has been living among the Picts, waylays the Roman noble lady Aziraphale on her trip to Hadrian's wall, and ravishes her in a glen off the side of the road.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Zine Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904656
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Lowland Delight

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Bottoms Up Zine: Aziraphale edition! Art (which I have not been able to find online, I'm sorry! Will update with link when I hear back) that went along with it was done by bilarzo!

Crowley leaped over Hadrian’s wall with a whoop and only a little demonic influence, bare to the skin except for a belt and the tattoos that covered her. Bright and vibrant and brimming with _life_ in a way that turned her blood hot and made her feel wild in the way humans were, under bright suns and icy rains.

A horse startled on the southern side of the wall and unseated its rider, a lady wrapped in a wool cloak and layers of luxurious silks against the lowland's chill. Crowley laughed wildly, making the horse gallop off in fear, and grinned down at the blonde woman lying in the road, offering a hand up.

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale huffed, accepting the offer before stomping her foot in pique to be left horseless. “That was my favorite mare! I’ll never find a horse with as easy a gait as that again!”

“Come off it, angel,” Crowley replied, walking to the side of the road and leaning her long body along a tree, “I _know_ you dislike the _lordling_ that gifted it to you.”

“An angel,” Aziraphale stomped up to the demon in a huff, “loves all things, including rude boys, Crowley.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley’s eyes darted back and forth, hidden only partially by circles of painted glass and wire, and grabbed for Aziraphale’s hand as quick as a snake and pulled her off the beaten path, into some of the wooded area nearby, further and further South away from the wall.

A group of riders on horses with flashy hipposandals that sparked beneath their hooves and breathed hellfire-hot mirages from their nostrils even in the coolness of the lowland spring. Crowley was supposed to meet a few demons on their rounds on Earth, being the only permanent agent up here, but that could wait, she hadn’t seen Aziraphale in a dog’s age.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried angrily, “Stop this instant!” And so Crowley did, dropping her hand and swinging around a tree to advance on Aziraphale’s back and hiss delicately over her shoulder into her ear.

“Not what'cha said last time.” Her voice was temptation, low and throaty, and quiet enough that only Aziraphale would hear. “No screamin', angel…” The answering, outraged squeak, and the red flush over Aziraphale’s neck and chest was everything Crowley could’ve hoped for.

Aziraphale gasped breathily, “Crowley…” There was no admonishment, simply a part of their game; Crowley couldn’t ever ask and Aziraphale couldn’t ever say yes. But they’d found a way to communicate their desires implicitly, where a no would always mean no. Even though it was rarely ever spoken/voiced when they came together.

“Angel,” Crowley murmured and kissed Aziraphale’s neck sweetly. Her hands were on Aziraphale’s hips and searching for the folds in the tunic and stola that would allow her access underneath.

“Limbus too, angel?” Crowley cackled, scraping her teeth along Aziraphale’s shoulder before finding a good place to bite down, pulling a moan from Aziraphale who had begun to breathe heavily at the faint touches.

“I’m a _lady_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale replied pointedly, causing Crowley to pull the fibulae from the fabric, baring Aziraphale’s breasts to the cool air. She gasped and moaned again when Crowley’s hands rose up to cover sensitive flesh and gently pinch and roll her fingers over Aziraphale’s nipples.

“Demon,” Aziraphale hummed, back arching to press her breasts against Crowley’s hands more firmly. In response, Crowley pulled Aziraphale against her chest and lowered them down to the grassy forest floor—it’d be soft and sweet-smelling if it knew what was good for it.

Crowley slipped her way around Aziraphale’s body, smoothing her hands firmly over soft skin and hiking up the folds of her stola until it was gathered at her waist. Aziraphale gasped and blushed prettily at Crowley’s wide grin which soon broke into a whisper of a moan as Crowley kissed the inside of her knee.

Like the snake she was, Crowley let her tongue flicker out from her mouth and breathed in deeply the heavy musk of arousal and the sweet perfume of flowers and grasses. Her tongue flickered over intimate skin higher and higher until Aziraphale could plunge her fingers into Crowley’s hair and hook her thighs over Crowley’s shoulders.

“That’s it, angel,” Crowley murmured, closer to worship like this than she’d ever been, and partook of the feast before her. Heavenly moans and bitten-off _alleluia_ s inundated the forest, startling no creatures great and small even as a great wind whipped itself into a frenzy in the distance in time with an angel’s cries.

“Cro– Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped and panted, her thighs trembling and dripping from her pleasure, and still, Crowley continued on with her tongue and her fingers, taking Aziraphale apart as deft as anything and taking part of the bounty before her.

“Just one more, angel, one more,” Crowley shushed, laying kisses over slick flesh and lapping lazily at Aziraphale’s clit even as three fingers curled over and over inside Aziraphale.

“Liar! You fiend!” Aziraphale cried out again, trying to twist and squirm away even as she pulled Crowley’s hair. She hadn’t believed _“one more_ ” the first time, let alone the third and fifth!

“Demon,” Crowley growled happily, turning her attentions to biting at fair thighs and mottling them with thick bruises like a jaguar’s coat, the hand unoccupied with agitating Aziraphale into a frenzy lay like an iron bar across Aziraphale’s hips to pin her down.

The wind whipped around them and tore at Aziraphale’s silk stola and the tips of her woolen cloak. Crowley bit and sucked her marks into divine flesh and worshipped at the altar before her with her teeth and tongue and lips, sealing them around Aziraphale’s clit once more to prove her zealous devotion.

Aziraphale screamed and arched just like the lighting from the sky as it hit a tree, starting a fire immediately put out by pouring rains and wind.

They breathed in the smell of sex and ozone and petrichor as the rain slicked down their bodies, drenching them. Crowley grinned, “Told you not to scream.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hipposandals were the precursor to horseshoes and were often made of flat metal plates the shape of the hoof (a u-shape) with leather or organic material ties wrapped around the foot itself. 
> 
> Stola was the garment of married women; a long gown, generally sleeveless, that hung nearly to the feet. (Usually worn over a tunica intima, a light inner shirt and often fastened at the shoulders by small clasps called fibulae.)
> 
> Limbus is the borders of a tunic. They were a simple under-skirt addition to add folds of cloth to the stola or toga to showcase wealth without being overly bulky (and mimicked another style that did rely on the greater amounts of fabric folded and pleated to showcase wealth via wide, intricately embroidered hems).
> 
> Fibulæ are the ornamental clasps for tunics, stolas, etc and often had motifs of snakes and wings (among other standard patterns easy to replicate in metal to show patriotism or otherwise act as jewelry) and held up the upper portion of the stola (which often had a belt just under the bust as an "empire waist" look


End file.
